


she's more of an artemis in muddy laces. than a venus in furs.

by BittersweetDreamer



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/M, Jonrya Week 2020, Sharing a Bed, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24683245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BittersweetDreamer/pseuds/BittersweetDreamer
Summary: (“I’m sorry,” Arya begins, craning her neck to look behind, Jon’s right hand is crossed awkwardly on his chest, hovering above his left arm like he jerked it back quickly only seconds before. “Understanding what you meant hasn’t exactly been my strong suit tonight”.“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it,” he doesn’t sound cruel, not that he ever would, it’s never been Jon’s way. She can feel his eyes on her, soft and lonely, like they always seem to be. It’s how he had been looking at her earlier, when he’d said those damned words, convincing Arya to act on the affection she hides and play the fool by kissing him.)(teacher x student AU for jonrya week 2020)
Relationships: Jon Snow/Arya Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51
Collections: Jonrya Week





	she's more of an artemis in muddy laces. than a venus in furs.

“Stop staring at me,” Arya grumbles in the dark room. She’s on her back, eyes glued to the overhead light that’s off, trying to focus on something, anything other than the man to her left, and the look of pity he’s directing her way.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression” Jon responds, his attempt at simultaneously feigning sleep while secretly gawking at Arya for the last half hour, finally forgotten. Of all the things he could have said, this has got to be the worst. 

“Please, just stop” Arya snaps, turning her neck to face him. She had meant to give him a glare, the kind her mother uses to shut her up. She must fail at it miserably, there’s nothing stern in the way her bottom lip quivers or how tears have crept in the corners of her eyes. Jon doesn’t look subdued but sympathetic, and the hopeful chance he might keep quiet dissolves when he opens his mouth. 

“Arya,” it’s slightly louder than a whisper, letting in more emotion than he’d ever normally allow. The soft way he says her name warms her like the heat of a summer sun, it’s a familiar feeling and a dangerous game when she’s already been burned. She chooses to ignore both it and him. 

“Arya,” he repeats louder. There it is, the authoritative tone she’s used to. The sharp edges of his voice pulling her out of this air-conditioned hotel room and into the stuffy, off-white walls of his classroom. 

“Mr. Snow” Arya barks back, making Jon’s face fall. She doesn’t know if it’s from the cold formality or the fact he’s always hated his surname, or rather, the lack of one. His ability to remain unaffected being called by it daily, after years of despising it, still surprises her. 

“Don’t do that,” he murmurs, raking a hand through his hair. Arya wants to reach across the inches that separate them and do it herself. Over the last decade, Jon made a habit of mussing her hair, it’s an affection she’s always on the brink of trying to return. Instinctively, her fingers twitch, but she busies them with the white sheet tucked around her waist instead. She’s embarrassed herself enough for one night. 

“Let’s just pretend it never happened,” she adds, her attempt of sounding calm and composed thwarted by the lump in her throat. 

“Arya, listen, I care about you, but-” 

“If you cared about me, at all, Jon, you would stop right there, because I’m willing to bet my left tit, that I’m going to hate whatever else comes out of that stupid mouth of yours,” Arya retorts, relieved for how quickly that shuts him up. 

“I’m just going to get some sleep then,” Jon states resolved. The only remnants of their disagreement are displayed by the soft fabric that remains tightly held in Jon’s fisted hands and the steady pull of the comforter toward his side of the bed. 

“Thank God,” Arya bites back, petulant, jerking the blanket back to cover herself, and turning her backside to him. 

“I knew this was going to be a bad idea,” Jon mumbles, turning to face the wall.

“How prophetic of you”.

“Can you stop being such a smart-ass?” 

“I could” Arya quips back. A satisfied smirk spreading on her lips when she hears Jon groan in response.

“Let’s just get through tonight please”.

“Yeah alright, because after tonight we will only have to see each other for the plane ride tomorrow, where we’re sitting side by side, the next three months where we’re sitting in the same room, and the rest of our lives, where we will be sitting many places, I hope for my sake, that John Krasinki’s face will be one of them,” She can feel the bed shake from the vibration of Jon’s laughter, it’s rhythm unsteady and unwilling to be contained. A smile creeps onto her own face, always pleased with herself at getting Jon Snow to smile, but then she remembers what he said, what she did, and what he didn’t, and the smile is gone. 

“So, yeah, let’s just get through tonight then, yeah?” Arya says, reiterating Jon’s earlier proposal. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Jon counters, flipping onto his back.

“I’m sorry,” Arya begins, craning her neck to look behind, Jon’s right hand is crossed awkwardly on his chest, hovering above his left arm like he jerked it back quickly only seconds before. “Understanding what you meant hasn’t exactly been my strong suit tonight”.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it,” he doesn’t sound cruel, not that he ever would, it’s never been Jon’s way. She can feel his eyes on her, soft and lonely, like they always seem to be. It’s how he had been looking at her earlier, when he’d said those damned words, convincing Arya to act on the affection she hides and play the fool by kissing him. 

“I don’t,” Arya huffs out in frustration.

“Alright then, goodnight Arya”.

After ten unsuccessful minutes and the inability to think of anything other than Jon’s words, rejection, and eyes, Arya gives up on trying to sleep. She reaches out, flicks the bedside lamp on, and sits up in the bed, arms crossed at her chest. 

“Why did you say that?” Arya asks, giving in to her own selfish need of knowing. Curiosity has always left her with far more wounds than anything physical and she knows tonight it will add another cut.

“Say what?” Jon asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and turning to look at her. 

“Don’t make me say it,” Arya whispers, biting her lip. Jon sits up in the bed, the closeness of their bodies heightened in the shared space. He raises his hand, scratching lightly at his beard, deciding. Deciding on the best way to take them back, most likely. 

“Because it’s the truth,” he resolves. Arya can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes her throat when he says it, because of all the reasons, she had not expected to hear that. 

“Then, why-?”

“Because it’s a truth that doesn’t exist.” Jon says, tearing his eyes away from Arya to focus on his hands. 

“That’s weird, I was here talking to you and then I blinked myself into a calculus lesson,” Arya says scooting closer to him. 

“I shouldn’t have said it,” Jon says, finally meeting her eyes. Arya drops her gaze downward, a disappointed oh slipping from her lips. “Not because it’s not the truth,” Jon says, reaching for her left hand. Holding her breath, Arya watches him stroke his thumb against her own, and it feels, right. She knows that this is right. Everything about her and Jon always has been. When she looks to Jon’s face, his eyes are concentrated on where their hands are joined, the barest of smiles on his lips, and she knows he must feel the same, even as he pulls his hand away and leaves the bed. “You’re my student, you’re seventeen years old, and you’re my best friend’s little sister” Jon finishes, pacing the floor like a trapped animal. 

“So,” Arya responds, crawling to the edge of the bed, knees folded beneath her. Her one word response ceases Jon’s pacing, and he’s standing in front of her, a look of shock straining his features. 

“So?” he says, sounding almost offended. Arya wants to laugh, but she doubts Jon finds anything about their situation funny. She reaches out and grabs his hands instead, pulling him closer to the bed, and finds herself surprised he’s allowing it. 

“Yeah, so? I’ll graduate in three months and turn eighteen in even less”.

“You’re still Robb’s little sister” Jon says, his voice holds guilt, but his hands still hold her. 

“Is that the only reason?” Arya asks, understanding while simultaneously trying to understand. She pulls him down to sit beside her, and is relieved at how easily he allows this too. 

“Reason?” Jon mumbles in confusion. If Arya weren’t so on edge about his response, she’d call him daft, but he looks almost ready to flee so Arya falls back onto something she has a limited use for, patience. 

“Is that the only reason you didn’t kiss me back?” Arya asks, watching Jon for a reaction, she’s still holding onto him with one hand, her knee nearly touching his thigh, but his eyes are fixated somewhere on the floor. 

“I don’t- I don’t know,” he sounds lost, and Arya thinks that if he allows it, allows this, allows her, he might be found. 

“Look at me Jon,” she commands, the uncertainty of her nerves hiding within the confidence of her voice. He complies, lifting his gaze, hovering on the bareness of her thighs before meeting hers. Arya has never been good with boys, she’s never been conventionally pretty or anything close to delicate. She’s competitive and her skills with sports natural, but the game-playing mentality of dating has always seemed boring and her ability to read signals impossible. She’s inept at knowing if and what a boy wants from her or what she wants from them. Or maybe none of that’s true. Maybe it’s that she’s never wanted anything from any of them to begin with. Maybe she’s only ever wanted what’s right in front of her. Because when his eyes do reach hers, there’s a warm, hungry feeling in her stomach and a sensation of novelty as it travels, stills and burns between her thighs. She knows with absolution what it is that Jon Snow wants, by looking at him. He wants nothing less than to touch, taste, and devour her. And all she wants, is to let him.

“You want me,” Arya voices, sounding breathy and foreign even to herself. It’s not a question, but Jon nods all the same. It’s almost trance-like, the way his jaw tilts up to fall down, it’s the slightest transfer of movement, and when the AC starts up like an uncomfortable bystander in the room witnessing lines on the cusp of being crossed, it’s broken. 

“We should get some sleep,” Jon’s deep voice sounds especially hoarse and Arya refuses for tonight to end this way. The space has grown cooler, the tension has been cut, but the goosebumps on her arms, sharing skin with freckles and scars, come from the heat of her want and not the chill of the room. Tonight can end in a dozen different ways, some she would prefer more than others, but she refuses for it end like so much of life is and will always be, unfinished. 

“No,” Arya says easily, it’s a familiar word from childhood, perhaps the first one she’d ever spoken. It’s voiced when people ask less of what she is and more of what she is not. Jon blinks at her, unmoved, just watching her, pupils blown wide. She reaches out a hesitant hand, offsetting the harshness of her defiant mantra with the softness of her palm against his jawline.  
He shudders from the contact, and Arya knows she would give Jon anything, if his breathing continues to remain contingent on her touch. Jon has been in her life for over a decade, filling her years with sarcasm, affection, and unwavering acceptance. Jon knows her, and right now, being here with Jon, and choosing to be soft, doesn’t feel like much a choice, it doesn’t feel like coming home, it’s like remembering you were always there. 

“You want me,” Arya begins, letting her hand slip from his face, a smile tugging at her lips from the frown that forms on his when she does so. “Even though I’m your student,” Arya continues, placing her hands on his shoulders, “and seventeen,” she throws a leg across his body, sitting down on his lap. “and Robb’s little sister,” His hands grip her hips roughly and she moans from the surprise and satisfaction. “you want me” she can feel his hardness, hardly contained in his sleeping pants and rocks against him, seeking friction for the wetness that’s formed in the fabric of her cotton underwear. 

“We can’t,” Jon’s forehead falls against her neck and he places a chaste kiss against her heaving chest. He still holds her hips in his hands, his finger curling into the flesh of her ass. He’d been using them to guide her movements, now he was using them to keep her still.

“Tell me,”Arya says, fingering his curls and pulling him backwards forcefully. “Do you?” 

“Arya,” Jon whispers, lifting one hand to wrap around her slender waist.

“I want you to say it,” Arya pleads, letting her hand fall, growing tired of being the only one wanting and fighting for it.

“This is a bad idea,” Jon counters, his grip remaining tight.

“No, not that, you’ve already said that,” Arya replies sardonically, squirming above him, wondering how someone can grow both sullen and harder at the same time. 

“It is,” Jon says, defeat prevailing in both tone and the way his hands drop back to his side. 

“I do,” Arya says resolute. More for herself at this point. He can dress it up, assuage his honor code, and call himself a hero, but beneath her sits a coward. “For years, I’ve wanted you” Jon watches her mouth, transfixed, as if just now realizing the source of Arya’s actions. Had he thought it sudden, her want of him? Did he think it was a few kind words and not the overwhelming attraction she’s been hiding for years that catalyzed this between them. “You were my first crush, Jon,” Jon releases a deep exhale, and Arya’s fascinated by her words, and the affect they are having on him. 

“The first time I touched myself I thought of you,” Arya can hardly believe the what she’s saying at this point. Too caught up in the feel of Jon’s body between her legs and the incredulous look on his face. 

“I thought it would be the tall guy from that show you’re always watching,” Jon says, finally finding the ability to speak. 

“So you’ve thought about it, have you?” Arya asks coyly, making Jon’s pale face redden. It’s an unfamiliar and pretty thing, to watch him blush and not brood.

“Obviously, Jim Halpert has made a few appearances over the years, but now, the only way I can get off, is when I think of you, just last night, I pictured us in your classroom, I was sitting at that black, leather chair behind your desk, with your face between my thighs, you whispering that I’m your good girl,” The irises of Jon’s eyes have gone entirely black, and at some point his hands have wandered back along the contours of her body, one slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, the other playing with drawstring of her sleep shorts. “and then there’s no more whispering, just me, screaming your name”.

“Arya,” he breathes out,pulling her against him, and crashing his mouth hard against her own. A smile forms on her lips and Jon uses this to his advantage, slipping his tongue between them. The sensation is heady, and raw, and right, and Arya wants more. She wants everything. 

“Touch me,” Arya whimpers, she will worry over how weak willed she sounds tomorrow. Tonight the moon could crash into the ocean, and while the waves consumed them, she would still be begging for him to touch her. 

“I am touching you,” Jon whispers playfully, between kisses, twining his finger into her messy, brown hair. 

“I’m glad you find this all humorous,” Arya groans out, pulling back to pout. “But if your fingers do not find their way into my inside of me in the next five-,” Arya keens, feeling Jon’s thumb at her clit, his index finger probing at her wet entrance, before she can even finish speaking.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! It's been awhile, but I had a lot of fun with this one & hope everyone enjoys. I love this ship & love the content coming out during this week for them on Tumblr. I always appreciate kudos, comments, and requests. Thank you!


End file.
